


Homeland

by SilverFountains



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Declarations Of Love, Friendship/Love, Genital Piercing, Loss, M/M, Making Love, Tattoos, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is surprised when he learns that Thorin and Dwalin are lovers. Such things are unknown among hobbits and he is curious to learn how two males can show each other such affection.</p><p>I usually write Thorin x Dwalin rough and kinky so thought it would be nice to see these two as romantic sweethearts.</p><p>Sorry...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeland

“We appear to be one dwarf short,” Gandalf remarks.

Dwalin scowls at him. Was this stupidly tall wizard doubting the honour of his King? “He’s late is all. He travelled North to a meeting with our kin. He will come,” he answers a little gruffly. He did not for a second doubt that Thorin would honour his word. After all he had been the one to call all of them here. He looks around the strange little dwelling. It had been a long while since he had seen this gathering of old friends and family together in one place. And he feels a combination of excitement for what lies ahead and sadness that only so few have turned up. He can only hope that Thorin has been able to convince Dain…

He joins the others back at the table as Fili hands out more tankards of beer. The food is good. He could get used to this. He hasn’t eaten this well in a long while. But as plates are emptied and Bofur and Thorin‘s nephews initiate a song to tease the funny little creature who is supposed to join them on their quest but instead is muttering about brochette, Dwalin is starting to feel uneasy in his stomach. Thorin is very late. What if something has happened on the road? He should never have agreed to Thorin travelling on his own. He had tried to argue, but Thorin had insisted Dwalin would go straight here to welcome the others. And now he is beginning to worry.

As he laughs along with his friends and brethren at their host’s increased anguish over his precious crockery, they are all startled into silence by the loud knock on the door. And before Gandalf has said it, Dwalin knows it is him.

Thorin barely gets a chance to apologise to Gandalf, explaining his lateness by the fact that he got lost, before Kili and Fili fly into his arms. He hugs them tightly, kissing each on their forehead. Dwalin knows Dis had not been pleased to let her boys go on this journey. But they are of age now and they had been so eager to follow their uncle on this most honourable of quests to reclaim their homeland. And both Thorin and he had promised to look after them. Dwalin thinks how young they look, barely of age and still so naïve. And he knows that they will learn all too quickly that the world outside of Ered Luin can be a dark and dangerous place.

Thorin finally releases his nephews and walks over to him. As they embrace their lips touch eagerly. Their separation has been too long. “I have missed you,” Thorin whispers through the kiss.

“I was worried,” Dwalin says quietly as they pull apart.

“You worry too much about me,” Thorin replies as he strokes his rough hand over Dwalin’s cheek, before he walks over to inspect the little burglar who is staring wide-eyed at them.

***

“So…,” Bilbo whispers to Bofur as the others are deep in conversation about the map splayed out on the table and he feels his cheeks are beginning to colour. “A kiss… That is a normal dwarvish greeting too, is it? Like the head butting?”

Bofur smirks at him. “For lovers, yes. Isn’t it in your culture too?”

Bilbo feels himself turn an unhealthy shade of red. “L… lovers? You mean Thorin and Dwalin…”

Bofur laughs as he slaps him across the back. “You get it, my friend. When we reclaim Erebor Thorin will make him his consort.”

Bilbo is confused. They are both males. Well as far as he can tell anyway. Not that he knows much about dwarves. But how can they be lovers? Such things are not known amongst hobbits. And he finds the Took curiosity in him getting the upper-hand. He wants to ask the question. He really wants to know how two males can love each other. How they - even thinking about it colours his cheeks further – show their affection so to say.

He can feel Thorin’s eyes on him now. In fact everyone appears to be looking at him as if they are waiting for an answer.

“So, are you a burglar?” One of the dwarves repeats the question to him.

He is quick to deny such a ridiculous suggestion and is rather relieved to find his uninvited company agreeing with him until Gandalf thunders across the table. He is completely expecting Thorin, who appears to be the man in charge here, to tell Gandalf to mind his own business. But to his surprise and horror the dwarf prince agrees with the wizard and a moment later a contract is shoved into Bilbo’s hands.

By the time he comes to from his moment of shock, feeling at the bump to the back of his head, the dwarves have all but moved into his home and have assigned themselves rooms for the night. He listens to them sing their sad song of their lost homeland until they all retire for the night. And when all bedroom doors have fallen shut he is glad that peace has returned, even though his guests have left utter devastation in their wake.

***

Dwalin watches his lover undress before Thorin crawls under the sheets with him. The bed is a little small for the two of them, since they are both very tall for dwarves, but he wants to spend this night with his beloved in his arms before they set off. Who knows when they will get a chance to be intimate like this again.

“Are y’okay?” he asks as he strokes through Thorin’s thick black hair.

Thorin’s blue eyes stare up into his. “Nervous. Excited. With the map and the key … We might really have a chance this time. But then again, my father …”

Dwalin places a gentle kiss on his cheek, his lips brushing against the soft beard. “Your father might have saved Erebor if he had made it that far, you know that, Thorin. But he lost his mind long before we got there. I was there, remember. He just … vanished. We never even came close. But then, he didn’t have a wizard. Or a burglar…”

Thorin grunts. “Neither do we by the sounds of it.”

“Then we will do without a burglar. The rest of us are here with ya. I am here with ya.”

And Thorin gives him the warmest smile as he pulls him into a deep kiss. It has been so long since he has felt Thorin’s tongue darting around his mouth this, felt him press his arousal against his thigh.

“Ye want to make love?” The question seems most unnecessary as they are both so hard, but Dwalin never wants to assume.

Thorin nods. “Perhaps for the last time,” he smiles a little sadly.

“Don’t speak like that, my King,” Dwalin whispers as he pulls his lover between his legs.

Thorin takes a little time to marvel once more at the drawings in Dwalin’s skin. Dwalin might well try and sooth his worries, but they both know that endless perils lie ahead of them on this quest. His father had tried and failed, never to be seen nor heard from again. And if this is the last time he ever gets to be with his childhood sweetheart then he will make sure that every inch of his being is imprinted in his memory.

“You know,” Dwalin whispers as Thorin’s finger traces over the pattern of their family heraldry across his chest, “how we were going to tattoo each other’s runes?” Thorin smiles. They had talked about it many times over the years. The rune tattoo that would signify a lover’s binding, which Thorin had promised him he would honour once they had returned to their home. But time had slipped away and they had been together for a lifetime now. They were practically bound already, in all but name. “I was thinking… We could do it now?”

“Now?”

Dwalin nods as he pushes his handsome love gently off him again, grabbling for his bag besides the bed. Like many dwarrow warriors he always carried his tattooing ink and needles with him as he marked off his kills onto his forearms as a sign of his strength and battle worthiness. “Just in case,” he sighs. He too feels the gravity of their task. He too knows that tomorrow could be their last day on this earth. “If anything happens to either of us ...”

Thorin nods sincerely. “It would be my honour.”

Dwalin gets up to prepare his kit and Thorin enjoys the sight of his mighty warrior friend standing before him in all his naked glory. He feels safe in the knowledge that Dwalin will be at his side on this journey. He trusts his lover with his own life and that of his closest family.

“Come ‘ere then,” Dwalin grumbles as he points at the chair. Thorin slides off the bed and seats himself down, the wood feeling cold against his bum. “Over the heart, yes?”

“Yes, _azaghâleluh,”_ and he sucks the breath through his teeth as Dwalin’s steady hand works the paint into his skin. The sensation of the rhythmic piercing of his skin with the thick sharp needle is almost hallucinogenic.

“Y’okay?” Dwalin asks as he is half way through. Thorin nods. He is a warrior too. He has suffered much worse than this teasing of his flesh and Dwalin had created many beautiful tattoos on his skin over the years. But this place on his body had been kept bare for this very special token. It is their cultural practice that the heart rune is tattooed after the wedding night. But what if there never will be a wedding night for them? Whatever happens, Thorin wants to carry his lover’s mark with him on this journey.

“There, ye’r all done.” Dwalin wipes the needle as he admires his work. Thorin glances down at the two inwards facing triangles pulsing an angry red. The initial of Dwalin’s warrior name, but as for all dwarrow it was also the first letter of his true name. Furthermore the rune was their symbol for _homeland_ , giving it another dimension altogether. “Thank you, it’s beautiful,” Thorin smiles softly at his friend. “I will do yours if you allow me.”

Dwalin hands him the needle as they swap places. “No silly business, _umùradûnadad_ ,” he grins as he feels somewhat vulnerable in his birthday suit with such sharp instruments in the hands of his lover.

“As if I haven’t gone there before,” Thorin smirks. After all he had been the one to place the piercing crowning his lover’s sword. To make his point he bends himself down to run his tongue along Dwalin’s soft member, the tip of his tongue playing gently with the golden ring.

“Thorin!” Dwalin groans. “There is time for that yet.”

“Very well,” and Thorin straightens himself as he dips the needle into the little bowl of ink. “Ready?” Dwalin gruffs an acknowledgement as he awaits the sharp prick of the needle.

***

Dwalin has bound both their new inks to prevent infection, especially in view of their long trip ahead, before they climb back into the bedstead together. “Thanks,” he smiles again as he tentatively strokes his finger across the bandage over his heart. “Ye’r the thorn in m’heart,” he grins at his lover who is placing kisses onto his stomach.

“I will take that as a compliment, _umzumuh,_ ” Thorin smirks back as he strokes over Dwalin’s hairy thigh. “You still want to…?”

“What do you think?” And Dwalin spreads his legs a little wider for his lover, who does not hesitate to take up position. He feels himself grow hard again at the sight of Thorin’s muscular body between his legs and the thought of them making love after so long apart.

Thorin slicks himself as he teases a finger between Dwalin’s legs. “I have missed you so,” he whispers as he slowly presses his thick finger inside, closing his eyes at the soft moaning sounds coming from Dwalin’s lips. “I hate being apart from you. And I am so glad we are going on this journey together.” Another finger gently follows the first, massaging Dwalin into submission for more.

“Me too,” Dwalin groans. “Always at yer side, _bâheluh_.” He stills as he feels Thorin press his tip against his entrance, spreading his legs just a little wider.

“Take me inside you, _khebabuh_ ,” Thorin groans as he slowly enters his lover’s heat. “Mm, so hot for me. Have you missed me too?”

“Yes, _bakhuzuh_ ,” Dwalin whimpers as he pulls his legs up to allow Thorin to penetrate him deeper. And he pulls his lover’s lips close as Thorin slowly rides deep into him. They have made love many times over their long lifetime. Sometimes hard and needy. Sometimes rough and kinky. But tonight they both need the gentlest of joining, of just being as one together and share that greatest of intimacies. And they move in unison, feeling each other, needing each other now more than ever.

And neither notices as the door opens just a crack and a little hobbit peers around the corner, eyes wide and mouth dropping open, as he watches the King without a Crown shudder between the big warrior’s legs, pushing his hips down in a steadfast rhythm of restrained force. The tips of Bilbo's ears are burning as he listens to the deep growls that pass between the dwarves’ as they grind their bodies together. And he feels a strange stirring deep in his tummy at the realisation of their love making.

Their host creeps away just as quietly as Thorin slides himself up into his lover’s arms. And the two lifetime brothers-in-arms fall asleep in a comforting embrace, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

*** ***

“My … boys?”

Balin shakes his head sadly as Thorin continues to drift in and out of consciousness. He holds Thorin’s hand, which is growing colder already.

“Then I too … must go now,” Thorin whispers. “To meet them on the other side. So that we can go together to the Halls … of Waiting ... My brother …”

“Yes, _Ezbaduh_ ,” Balin says quietly, trying to hold back his tears. “Frerin will be waiting for you.”

“Thorin?!!” Dwalin crashes through the tent opening. But he comes to an abrupt stop as he takes in the picture of Balin looking grave and his lover lying deathly pale on the field bed, his tunic drenched in blood.

“Brother,” Balin nods as he lets go of Thorin’s hand with a final squeeze and clasps Dwalin on the shoulder before he moves to the back of the tent to give them a little privacy.

“Thorin…” Dwalin whispers breathlessly as he takes the cold grey hand in his, kissing the ring on Thorin’s finger. “I am so sorry. I have failed ya. I’ve failed all of ya.”

“No.” Thorin’s voice is breaking up now as his breath gurgles. “We have won… We have reclaimed our homeland. Now, you must … promise me you will defend Erebor… That you will rebuild it. For me.”

Dwalin nods as he cannot stop the tears flowing over his cheeks. “Don’t leave me…”

Thorin smiles one last faint smile at him. “I will see you on … the other side. I will be waiting. _Men lananubukhs … zu_ ,” the faint whisper starves away on Thorin’s last breath as Dwalin lets out a long sob.

Balin is back as his side now, sliding his hand over their friend’s face.“Rest now, my King.”

Dwalin bends over and pulls Thorin’s tunic open. There are so many wounds, so much blood. But there is one symbol that is whole and undamaged as the rune over Thorin’s heart is revealed. Balin looks at the mark for the first time and a tear slides over his cheeks as he lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Dwalin places his large hand over the mark and the other over his own heart. “ _Âzyungisimunuh_. You are always in my heart. I will find you. One day you will be in my arms again, _Thanu men_.”

And in the enormity of such loss no-ones pays any attention to the childlike creature with the big hairy feet that hovers in the entrance of the tent.  And Bilbo knows now without a doubt how one dwarf-male can truly love another.

**Author's Note:**

> azaghâleluh = my warrior of all wariors  
> umùradûnadad = soul-brother  
> umzumuh = my brute  
> bâheluh =my friend of all friends  
> khebabuh = my forge  
> bakhuzuh = my hammer  
> Ezbaduh = my Lord  
> Men lananubukhs menu = I love you  
> Âzyungisimunuh = my everlasting love  
> Thanu men = my King


End file.
